


Special Snowflake

by CharlotteK



Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BBC Sherlock - Freeform, Cuddling, Fluff, John Watson - Freeform, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform, Snowmen, Winter, snowball fights, tackling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-09
Updated: 2012-08-09
Packaged: 2017-11-11 19:14:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlotteK/pseuds/CharlotteK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A snowy day in London brings John and Sherlock outside. It also brings out some unsaid feelings that Sherlock has for John...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Special Snowflake

Lazy days like these are John's favourite. There's something about lounging by the fireplace with a hot cup of tea during a cold winter's day that he can't quite put a finger on, but loves all the same. He sips his lemon tea and watches the flames flicker and dance, while Sherlock reads quietly in his chair. The television set has been broken since last week, after one of Sherlock's "experiments" went completely wrong. John doesn't mind the silence. In fact, he enjoys it. The only sounds in the entire flat are the sounds of Sherlock flipping pages, the crackling and popping of the fire, and the pattering of fat, wet snowflakes on the windows. John kicks his slippers off and stretches his legs out, warming his feet in front of the fire. He wiggles his toes, and grins. This is his favourite thing about winter.

A few flips of a page later, and Sherlock puts his book down. "John," he says. "I say we go out to build a snowman." John looks over at Sherlock, and furrows his eyebrows.

"Why? It's cold out. And wouldn't a snowman be a little childish for the brilliant mind of Sherlock Holmes?"

"Obviously it's cold out, but it's been a long time since I've built one, and I think we could use the fresh air." John puts his teacup and saucer down, and looks back at the fire.  _Stay with me, John,_  it seems to beckon.  _I'm warm, and cozy, and nice. It's snowing out there. Don't leave!_  He looks back at Sherlock. There's no use arguing; they're going outside.

John scoops up a bunch of snow into his gloved hands and pats it into a ball. It's perfect for snowmen. Snowmen and… John has an idea. A snowball fight. He winds up, and pelts Sherlock in the back. It spatters the back of his long, black coat with a  _kssh_. Sherlock turns around and narrows his eyes at John. John starts to laugh. He ducks, narrowly missing a snowball from Sherlock.

"Missed me!"

"I know! But just wait!" Sherlock rolls up another ball, and this time, it hits John in the arm. Snow flies up into his face, and Sherlock grins evilly. He starts to chuckle. John runs over to the sidewalk and kicks a small snowdrift, splashing Sherlock's legs with the slushy mess.

"Ahh!" Sherlock runs at John, and chases him around the building. He tackles him to the snow, and soon, he finds himself laying in the snow on his back, with John sitting on his hips, pinning his arms to the ground. They're both breathing heavily, and John smirks.

"Gotcha," he pants.

"Looks like it," Sherlock replies. "Fine, fine. You win this one." He tries to wiggle his arms free from John's grasp, but John tightens his hold on them. Sherlock gives his evil grin once more, and bucks his hips, sending John falling off sideways. John can feel his face getting warmer.  _Did he just…?_

"Did you just thr-"

"Yes," Sherlock interrupts. "Come on, you liked it." He winks. John's face is burning hot enough to melt the snow now, and he knows it's probably the colour of ripe watermelon. He's forgotten all about the snowman.

"Know what I find interesting?" Sherlock asks, looking up into the sky. He takes off his glove and holds out his hand, watching the snowflakes land on his skin, and melt. "That every snowflake is different. There are millions and millions of them everywhere, and not one is the same as another."

"I guess that's where the expression 'special snowflake' comes from," John replies. He sticks out his tongue to catch a few falling flakes.

"John, you shouldn't do that," Sherlock says. "Air pollution. Tainted the snowflakes. Same way rain is acidic, but just… snow." John slowly puts his tongue back into his mouth, and rolls his eyes. "You know, there is somebody that I consider a special snowflake."

"You mean yourself?"

"Other than me. This person's got a brilliant mind, and is brave. Brave, and has a bit of a sense of humour." John smiles.

"And who is this  _special snowflake_ , Sherlock?"

"I'm surprised you need to ask. Well, scratch off the 'brilliant mind' thing, I suppose." John crosses his arms. Sherlock looks at him, and gives him a quick grin. "You. You're my special snowflake." John chuckles.

"I never thought I'd hear you say that," he says. "Thank you."

"No, I mean it. You're different from everyone else I know, John. You know how I said that I didn't have friends; I only had one? Well, you're that one." He reaches out and takes John's hand. "Now, how about that snowman?"


End file.
